


the second waltz

by jongdaesang (d10smessi)



Category: TharnType the Series (TV), เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M, i broke down before midnight and wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25090123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d10smessi/pseuds/jongdaesang
Summary: “na na nana nanana.” gulf softly sings along with the crowd. mew tries to maneuver them properly but with the small space and the people around them all he can do, really, is to badly sway them.
Relationships: Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat/Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong
Comments: 2
Kudos: 103





	the second waltz

**Author's Note:**

> please listen to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vauo4o-ExoY) while reading PLEASE I AM BEGGING AND HAVING A BREAKDOWN

the first thing mew notices is the rapid fire thai spilling out of pretty—very, very pretty—pink lips. the next thing he notices is the the pair of jeans and the unassuming sweater. he’s sitting way too close to the stage not to be noticeable. mew is dressed in a three-piece suit that costs more than what an average person makes in a year. on his left wrist is the median household income in the form of a watch. 

the man sitting beside mew is wearing scruffy sneakers.

he’s still pretty though—still very, very pretty with his slightly curly hair and pink lips and worn out converse in the middle of maastricht and mew _wants._ the most basic of want—the feel of a new discovery and a new person and a new smile.

mew wonders how this man smiles—he’s still talking in rapid fire thai about being lost and _oh—_ now he is looking at mew like it’s the first time he has noticed that he’s in public and this is a concert and andre rieu is on stage and playing the blue danube.

( _god,_ mew thinks, _really, really pretty_.)

“um—” the guy stutters, all sheepish. his cheeks are pink under the glaring lights and when he shifts, shadows throw stark relief against high cheekbones. mew is not unused to seeing beautiful people, people with faces like they belong to one of the rooms in louvre filled with sculpted marble of from a more than a millennia ago. this guy does not look like one of those beautiful people, mew thinks. the pretty man spills a quiet laugh and brings a delicate hand up his nape to rub it slightly, likely a nervous habit. 

this man, mew thinks, belongs under sunshine, not inside stuffy museums.

“am i—uh—disturb?” the pretty man hesitates. he grasps the english words like they are trying to run away from his tongue—lips curling in an unfamiliar patters. his tongue pokes out the side of his mouth and mews eyes linger. for a moment.

“no,” mew gives a slight way. he switches to the language they share and adds, “no, no. i’m just surprised to meet another thai here, in the netherlands of all places.”

“oh!” the pretty man’s eyes widen and mew watches his lips curl in a big, big smile and that’s it— _oh,_ mew thinks. the man exclaims, “you’re thai!”

“yep,” mew nods. he tries to keep it low because there’s a maestro playing the blue danube still. mew thinks he will never forget about that piece. when andre rieu pulls the bow down and tilts his head just so, the memory of a pleasantly surprised _oh_ will always linger like an afterthought. 

(mew has always been a romantic. it is simultaneously his fatal flaw and his best characteristic.)

“i’m mew, by the way,” he says. he hopes the guy introduces himself. no matter how apt, it’s a little bit hard to keep referring to him as the pretty man. 

“gulf.” _gulf_ tilts his head to the side and he gives a small shy smile. mew returns it with a big grin and starts to get comfortable on his chair. he turns his eyes back to the performance—and god, that’s an extremely difficult thing to do. 

“what brings you here, gulf? watching a rieu concert?” mew tries to enunciate the name clearly. 

“a what now?” gulf asks nervously. mew sneaks a glance and gulf is fiddling with the hem of his sweater in time to the music. 

“the violinist’s name is andre rieu. very famous for his waltz performances.”

“i didn’t know that,” gulf laughs slightly. 

“i get that,” mew cheekily replies. maybe they’re flirting. he’s not sure. mew is a little too old to flirt with young pretty boys in the middle of a violin concert in the netherlands.

“my friend kind of ditched me and gave me his seat. said he didn’t want to waste it. i sort of just agreed to go out of curiosity.” gulf gives him an eye, running a look over mew and taking in his suit and the shiny italian oxfords. he adds, “clearly you know what you’re here for.”

“not a big fan but also not musically illiterate either.” mew looks back to the stage and finds that the piece is almost over. he has not even noticed. “how are you finding the concert so far?”

gulf runs another gaze at mew and shivers bloom underneath his spine—all at once.

“enjoyable,” is gulf’s answer. 

maybe they _are_ flirting. maybe gulf is also interested.

before mew can get another word, rieu says something that mew does not understand but people start standing up and—

“what’s happening?” gulf asks suddenly. 

mew stands up too, knowing what’s about to happen. he turns to look at gulf just as gulf turns to face him. 

“sometimes during his concerts, he asks people to dance while he performs.” 

since they are maybe flirting and gulf says he is enjoying the experience so far, mew decides to throw caution to the wind and puts on his own performance. a hand on the back and one arm outstretched , he gives gulf a small smile and asks, “care to give me a dance?”

gulf’s eyes widen and his head moves to the side, as if checking if people will really dance. there is an old couple beside them who has started swaying even without the music. the other man excitedly nods and he steps closer to mew. gulf takes his hand and something familiar lodges deep into mew’s chest like a warm stronghold. 

gulf grips his hand softly, a little hesitantly. mew thinks the other man sees something in his eyes that lends to a sudden burst of confidence. gulf has a soft palm. mew realizes gulf is a little taller than he is. not noticeable but with their proximity, every single centimeter is obvious. 

“i’ll lead?” mew asks. 

“sure,” gulf laughs. “but i’m warning you—i’m a hell of a bad dancer.”

mew shakes his head. “i hope you’re joking.”

“i actually am not.”

mew fixes them and guides gulf’s form and the first notes from a wind instrument that mew does not know the name of plays. 

“ _na na nana nanana_.” gulf softly sings along with the crowd. mew tries to maneuver them properly but with the small space and the people around them all he can do, really, is to badly sway them. 

“ _tut tut tut tu-nuh-nuh-nan_ —” gulf continues. “ _tuh-nuh-nuh-nan tut_.”

it makes mew laugh. here he is, listening to one of the best violinists in the world and he is looking at a beautiful man badly singing along to the notes being played. in the middle of maastricht night, mew thinks there is such thing as infinite warmth. 

“what do you call this piece?” gulf asks.

“the second waltz,” mew replies. he holds

gulf squeezes mew’s hand. something in mew’s chest shifted and it feels like it will never be the same again. he sways them in time to the music and gulf tries to twirl himself. mew lets him. 

suddenly, in the middle of a single note, gulf says, “it’s our first.” gulf leans in and places his head on mew’s shoulder. it doesn’t seem like a comfortable position but mew can clearly hear the way gulf is trying to sing along to the sound of the violin and mew’s mind is racing.

gulf’s words repeat in his head— _it’s our first_ —and it awfully feels like it’s a start. here mew is, in the middle of an andre rieu performance with a shostakovich playing and there is a beautiful man in his arms trying to dance waltz in his dirty sneakers and jeans. 

mew laughs and can’t help but echo, “it’s our first.” he thinks it’s a promise so mew can’t help but also sing along—

“ _na na nana nanana nanana nanana_.”


End file.
